The Spark Goes Out
by InnocenceLily
Summary: Jace is diagnosed with a disease and can only sustain for 6 months. Warning: angst and depression.


**_Inspired by Alone on the Water by MadLori._**

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**The Spark Goes Out**

My hand finds his in the cold, dank hospital room. Desperately, Jace grips mine until the blood drains from my already pale skin to sheet-paper white. I rub my thumb against the back of his knuckle to soothe his muscles and relax his hold.

No, this cannot be happening.

Tears flow freely down my otherwise stoic face. I taste salt on the edges of my lips and down my chin. They stain onto the collar of my shirt and stick to the hollows of my neck. My nasal passages are blocked and it becomes hard to breathe. The walls press in, a cold fist clenches my heart. And I'm afraid I'll die right here in this room: my body slumped onto the ground, my organs pouring from my abdomen where I turned inside out, and my fiery red hair fanned across the sterile white floor.

_I can't breathe,_ I think. _This isn't happening._

I stare blankly at the doctor's face. Nothing comes to focus. I can't understand. I can't process the possibility that—

Jace, my Jace. God, he's too young.

His face is defeated; his once beautiful body sagging. The bright golden fire in his eyes lost in dreary tears and lost hope. He leans towards me as support—like I'm the only person holding him upright at this moment. I love him. And I don't want this for him. I wish it wasn't him.

But it is. And it's too late to stop it. Too late for things to go back to normal. And way too soon for him to go. I don't want him to leave. I don't want him to leave my side.

_Disease. Mild cognitive impairment. Memory loss. Impaired reasoning. Mental illness._

We have 6 months at the most. 6 months to break his ties off. 6 months of life left for him. 6 months and more of heart break.

"What do we have to do?" His voice comes out shaky. He tries to hide the tremor in his voice. The hand in mine begins to shake rapidly and out of control.

He's trying to hide his fear. Conceal his emotions for me—and for him. The gears in his mind turn slowly; they've began to slow since a month ago. And he lied to me that he was fine. He lied to himself that he was fine.

And that was the first mistake.

I give him a reassuring squeeze. I flash a weak smile his way. His eyes are dry—unlike mine—but they plead for help, for mercy, for a savior.

But I can't save him. I don't know how. My mind goes blank when I try to conjure up the situation. I'm floating in a nonexistent bubble of sorrow and I'm afraid of when it will pop. When the reality will hit me and this won't feel like a dream anymore. It will be real and threatening, real and lethal.

His slim fingers tentatively dance and tickle along my pale, freckled ones. The playful action brings a tiny smile to the grievous state of my soul. I rub deeper circles into the crook between his thumb and index finger out of instinct. We know each other by memory. We are one body and mind. Therefore I'm going when he does.

And will there be a life after this one?

I don't know. All I know is that I'm completely helpless and that no matter what I do it won't be enough. I can't fix this. Nothing in this world and fix my torn apart heart. Even if the earth dies and the sky begins to burn, I always thought I would be with Jace. We would be together until death do us part.

But I counted on that being several years down the road. When we were married, had children, and grew old and tired to where wrinkles would cover us from head to toe and I would gaze at him as if he hasn't aged a day since I met him. That he was still the same boy I met at the club with golden hair with piercing gold eyes. My golden boy. My _beautiful _golden boy.

He is so beautiful it hurts sometimes.

oOoOoOoOo

Our steps echo in the empty hall of the Institute. Jace leans heavily against me as I half-walk, half-carry up the stairs, through the grand hall, and into the office.

Once we pass through the door, we are greeted by 3 Lightwoods and their dark hair and blue eyes—though Isabelle has brown, which she always complains about. Their curious eyes scan our body position and understand that something is wrong, very wrong.

"Oh, Jace," Isabelle gasps. Her eyes well up in tears and her bottom lip quivers. "Oh, Jace."

Jace's face becomes strained as he takes a pained look at his family for the past 7 years. A look of regret flies across his face, his expression weak and beaten to the core. I silently tell him that it's not his fault: that Mother Nature has to take a toll on all of us and that he was just getting his toll early.

He glances around as if this was the last time he would see this room. "I—Alec, I need to talk to you."

Alec gives a slight nod and walks to the corner of the room by the fireplace. Jace joins them and his face pinches into deep conversation as he explains the past month. As the conversation goes on, Alec's face begins to fall. He has a grim look; he begins to study Jace's face—trying to memorize his face—before turning away. Jace's emotions break free and he sobs strangled cries against his _parabatai_. The room falls into a silence as his family watches their strongest member tear down the façade and let lose all the despair that has been locked up in him for so long.

_Even the strongest can fall._

And yet, I never thought Jace would fall. At least—not early. I thought he was an impenetrable wall of steel, unmoving and unbreaking.

Isabelle's hand grips mine tightly. Tears stream down her face, a glassy look covers her usually fierce brown eyes. Her silent tears signify what is to come. In 6 months there will be a silent gap, a hole in our hearts lost forever. And nothing in this unfair world can repair it.

I guess we are on our own.

_I can't. I just can't. _

You never feel despair until the day you find out that everything will be lost; your loved ones will be dead. And yet you have to live through it. You have to strive through the pain for the better life afterward. You have to move on.

But it's so hard to move on. My whole life has been full of death. The world has had millions of deaths and still history knows only a few thousand. And those other ones? Gone. No one knows their story or even cares about whom they are and what they did. Some managed to make scratches on the world while others can't manage to make a dent. They go off into the oblivion unknown to the next generation. Their faces have been forgotten and their lives erased from the world. And I can't see how this is fair. I want to make a scratch—or even a dent—on this world like others before me. I want Jace to make a mark on the world, to change people's lives for decades to come. But he doesn't have the chance. Only a few ever make a scratch on the world. And only trivial amounts are worthy.

My desires won't matter years later after I die. Human kind tries to survive, to try to sustain longer than our peers and family members. No one wants to die, but it's a sad fact of life we come to terms with once we're ready. We want to outlast the others, to gain a thousand more lives than we are worthy for. And I believe being immortal isn't all it's cracked up to be.

Imagine your loved ones dying year after year for the rest of your life. You have to endure and remorse for life. It's a curse, not a gift, and I believe not to choose it.

**2 Months Later**

Jace began to forget.

He can't seem to recall the Angel's name anymore. He can't remember simple fighting skills or the names of demons and their descriptions. He isn't fit to fight, but he insists on going anyway. He still believes that he should do his duty to society—though he has no idea what Shadowhunters are called or whether we are on Team Good or Team Bad. When he fights it breaks my heart. He flails around to save himself and sometimes forgets who we are and charges after us instead of the demon.

But he hasn't forgotten who I am yet. I hope he never does.

Can he sustain for 4 more months?

**4 Months Later**

Jace is beginning to attack us. Sometimes he'll wake up one morning after a fitful sleep and storm into the room and try to strangle us. He's hostile to everyone—but me—and now he can't fight. It isn't safe for him anymore. He can be friendly one minute and irate the next. He forgets more easily—even if we said it a day ago—and he can't remember how to tie his shoes, or how to play piano, or how to wield a sword.

He can't have a peaceful sleep without nightmares and hallucinations. He's too scared to sleep at night and only sleeps during the day—and most times not at all. Sometimes when we speak to him it takes a minute for him to comprehend. And sometimes he can't find the words for what he wants to say. He never reads or writes anymore. He lies on the couch in the office and stares blankly at the fireplace—even if there isn't a fire going—and mumbles to himself.

Jace has lost his mind. He is beginning to rot away and fade. I begin to worry if I will forget his face, or if I will ever recall his voice. I wonder if in a few decades if I will even remember who he was. I don't want to forget. I _won't _forget.

**One Day Left**

We all have a feeling that Jace is going to die today.

His hallucinations have gotten worse. He can't speak, can't write, can't sleep, can't eat. His face is hallow, his cheeks sunk him and instead of golden skin, a pale grayish skin. He does not acknowledge us; he isn't receptive to any of us.

The Lightwoods left to pick something up from the store. They said they would be back in an hour. They said to not worry about Jace. They said he would be fine.

But can't they tell he's not?

Occasionally Jace recognizes me. His eyes dilate, and his weakened pulse quickens. He scans my face, as if he's taking me in before he goes—so he won't forget.

I pretend that the real Jace is stuck inside this Jace's head: trying to get out, that he's not ready to die yet, that he wants to do so much more with his life. I hope that in his heart he still keeps on fighting. But his mind is the problem. And the brain is unfixable.

As he stares blankly towards the fireplace, I stroke his now stringy, unwashed golden hair. "Jace, can you hear me? It's Clary. I just wanted to tell you that I love you, and that I wish the real you was here—not this Jace sitting here doing nothing. The real Jace wouldn't want this. He would want to go see the world and kill more demons. The real Jace isn't like this."

Suddenly, his fist clenches. His eyes stop staring at the wall and look towards me. I gaze back, thankful that I have gotten his attention. I give him a feather-light kiss.

Jace's fist collides with my face. I fall backwards onto the ground, cradling the stinging skin. He hasn't been this strong since over 6 months ago.

He towers over me. His rabid eyes a raging storm of hellish fire. His fists clench and unclench. And I am suddenly very afraid.

Jace yanks the office table off the ground and hurtles it in my direction. I dodge but one of the legs snags my arm and I hear a snap. He broke my arm. Pain rushes through my arm in increasing pain. I wince; I am now wounded and vulnerable to him.

Jace grabs a chair and throws it. It smacks against my face gouging my left eye and forehead. Blood spurts out and runs down over my eyes and into my nose and mouth. I can't breathe, all I see is hot, thick blood. I whimper and plead for him to stop but he doesn't. Instead he chunks a lamp at my knees and I fall jarringly. He kicks my side once, twice, three times.

"Stop!" I plead, my blood mixing with my salty tears. Black begins to cloud my vision and I can't stop crying. Why can't I just stop? It's too painful, I can't live much longer.

He punches my gut and grabs hold of my broken arm. He hauls me to my feet and twists my arm. I cry in anguish and pain. I am burning: inside and outside. My body aches and is on fire. The tongues of pain race through my veins and through every spot in my body. He throws me against the wall and I forget to breathe—I can't—and I choke for air.

_Jace, you need to stop._

I say this out loud. He doesn't cease. The pain keeps coming. It turns into a dull pain and I can't see anymore. I hang onto the thread of life I have left. Black is everywhere, but I can feel every punch, every kick, every abusive move. Blood now leaks from more than just my forehead. I grow weak from blood lost and I feel like I have a concussion. I can't stay awake for much longer. I think about how pitiful this is. I die by my boyfriend who is dying of dementia. Well, if we both go down, there's a chance we could be together in the afterlife.

My body begins to relax. I have accepted this. I will wait until he dies. I will wait until he crosses the threshold and then we can be together in the life after this. We could be where there are no demons, no angels, and no problems between us. Life would be better, life would be tranquility. I could just close my eyes and dream of a better life. I could give in to death right now and wait. But yet I am not done with this world. I haven't gotten far and I might still have time.

I open my eyes and breathe one word softly, "Jace."

His eyes change: they soften and clear. His hostile face turns into one of horror. He begins to sob, holding his face in his hands. He rocks back in forth and crying "By the Angel, what have I done?"

I crawl towards him ignoring the stabbing needles all over. He jumps back and holds his hands out in front as if warding me off. He shakes his head vigorously and stutters out "No, don't come close."

Wet tears slide down my face. "Jace, you did nothing wrong—"

"No, I did _everything _wrong."

"It wasn't your fault."

"Yes it was. I could have stopped and I didn't. I thought you were a stranger, I thought it would be fun to kill you."

I flinch at those words. He was trying to kill me. Jace was trying to kill me. _It wasn't him, _I tell myself._ It was his disease. _And there's that word again: disease. Maybe everything is a disease. Maybe humans are diseases. Maybe diseases can die over time, maybe they'll eventually go away.

I slump onto the couch not caring if Maryse will murder me later for smearing blood on the leather. So many emotions are raging in my head. I don't know who Jace is right now and whether I'm really dead or not. Jace comes to sit on the other end of the couch. His tired eyes squeeze shut and he doesn't speak for a few seconds. And then—

"I can't believe you survived 6 months of me in this state," he says.

I don't respond; I didn't expect him to form sentences so easily. How is it possible that he is doing this? "I love you," I say simply. There isn't much more than that. I love Jace and I would do anything for him—even if he was slowly growing crazy by the minute.

"I was awful to you—unforgivable." He glances at me then looks away. His eyes fill up with longing and I pretend not to notice.

"Jace, can we please not talk about this?"

"_How can we not?_" Jace demands. His anger quickly turns into regret. "I'm sorry. But there isn't anything else more to talk about. _I'm dying. _And there's nothing to stop me from dying."

I take his face in my petite hands and hold his gaze. He tries to look away but I redirect him to my eyes. For the first time in months, I finally see the real Jace.

"I don't care that you're dying. I will love you to the ends of this earth and I will fight for you. I will fight until the day I die and I might not stop even after that."

His lips part in awe. He raises a hand to tentatively stroke my wet cheek. I instantly lean towards his rough palm. It's been so long since he has touched me. It's been so long since I've felt love.

I lean towards him and give him a gentle kiss. Our tears on our lips mix and our hearts beat together. I forget where we are and what just happened. All I know is that I'm Clary and he's Jace. And I know that we were meant for each other. There is nothing more than just him in this moment. I don't care if he's dying, or that he just brutalized me. I just want _him_. I want him more than anything else in the world.

He tastes just like I remembered. He's gentle and kind and nothing like he was a minute ago. I thread my fingers in his hair and he threads his in mine. He only breaks the kiss to murmur against my lips "You're beautiful. You shine brighter than the sun and I hope the last thing I remember is your face."

And at those words I break down. It's too much and I can't handle it and I just want this to never end. I want this Jace back and I curse the world for making our lives so difficult. Since when have I been given a break? Since when did I get my Happily Ever After?

His breaths slow and his heart begins to cease. I inhale sharply. This isn't happening. This isn't happening.

"Clary?" I inspect his face. I try to absorb all of him: his face, his body, his eyes. I hope I don't forget those eyes.

"Take care of Izzy and Alec for me."

I nod, "I will."

His brow creases and his mouth turns into a frown. "No, you have to promise."

I inhale a deep breath. "I promise."

And at this, Jace smiles wider than any of the times I've seen him do in the last 6 months. He caresses my face—tracing over the bridge of my nose, the outline of my lips, and kissing each eye. "I love you," he states full of passion.

"No, Jace. Don't go. Don't leave me here alone by myself. I can't do this without you. _Please._" I'm practically hysterical by now. Snot is falling down my chin and I can only imagine what I look like to him right now, bruised and worn out, but I don't care. There is nothing in this world without him. There is nothing worth fighting for. _Except my humanity._

And I can already tell that it is slipping.

"I know you can do this. You are strong, one of the strongest. You are stronger than I ever was."

"No. No, you can't leave. I won't let you."

"I love you. You are the source I revolve around and we are drawn together by magnets. I will find you. And I will wait. I don't regret anything I've done and I forgive myself for the mistakes I've made. I certainly don't regret you.

"You have built me from sand. I am your sandcastle and you are the maker. It's time the tide takes me in and I wash away."

I hurriedly press sloppy kisses onto his face, his hair, his hands, his chest. I take his body into my arms and wail into his chest. "If you are the sandcastle then I am the child who cries after it is washed away. I am the child who has had enough. But I am still the child who will attempt to build another."

The corners of his mouth tilt upward. My heart soars for a second and then his face goes limp. His breathing stutters its last breath then stops. I bring my fingertips to his lids and close his eyes. There, now it could be as if he were sleeping.

I weep until the forever when Maryse comes back with Isabelle and Alec. On sight she spots the blood on the couch, me bleeding and pale as can be, and Jace's limp form in my arms. Isabelle's face crumples as she crashes onto the couch—not caring about the blood streaks—and sobs into Alec's shoulder as he too is perched on the edge of the couch rigidly as his parabatai rune bleeds onto his shirt. Maryse leans against the broken table and has a glossed look over face. Her bottom lip trembles as she tries to put herself together.

_I love you, Jace. But look at what you've done._

**2 Years Later**

It's becoming hard to remember Jace's face, or his voice. The only resources I have to remember him are photographs and videos. But he is fading, and I'm afraid that one day I'll wake up and not know the depth of color in his eyes or the sound of his voice. I'm scared, so scared.

Alec moved out of the Institute and into Magnus's apartment months afterward. He said that he would like to spend more time with Magnus. He said he moved on.

But I know better.

It's became harder for Isabelle and I to live here. Everything reminds me of Jace and his arrogant demeanor. I can't help but recall memories of him as I walk down the hallways, in the office, and even in the greenhouse. And each memory is a punch in the gut and a blow in the chest. Sometimes when I forget, I turn around to tell him something only to realize that he's not there. He won't be there. He isn't there.

And my heart falls into my stomach and the acids inside slowly destroy me.

Instead of sulking in my room, I began training constantly to distract myself. I know that he would want me to keep training to be a Shadowhunter. I know he'd be proud if he saw me now. I began to work harder to fulfill the dream we both shared, and I learned that I'm not only doing this for him but also for myself. I want to be the best. I want to be as good as Jace ever was and maybe even better.

I can see Jace rolling his eyes and gloating about how superior he is. But I know that he never underestimated me. He knew what I could do.

Now I am stronger, better than I was. I now have courage and strength. I now believe that Jace was right; I am strong, and I won't let loss take me down. I fight in memory of him. When I destroy a demon, his hands are on my seraph blade guiding the blow. Whenever I fall down, he's there to hoist me up and back on my feet. Whenever I fall asleep, I dream of him.

Jace was the push I needed to be set in motion of my destiny. Jace was the hope I needed to survive. And he was also the lifesaver I needed before I could get back on my feet and do things for myself.

Jace hasn't left my mind for a second. And I don't fear death: I welcome it like a friend. I greet it with a smile and courageously take it down. I will not give into fear. I will not die that easily. When I die, I will search for Jace. I will not stop until my heart is full again and the aching hole is gone. I will not stop until I'm back in his arms and we are in our lifetime of happiness.

But until then, I will keep fighting.

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_Thanks for reading! ~InnocenceLily_


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